


Naga Shadow

by LittleWatty



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: F/M, its weird okay, kind of, there's a bit of necrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2018-11-06 14:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11038290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWatty/pseuds/LittleWatty
Summary: I cannot guarantee all of this is accurate, but I am doing my best. Itan-Ru's story is not exactly a happy one, but it will be rather short.The title is actually a pun of the Sith Lord Naga Sadow. Some might recognize the name, but its from the old Star Wars games Knights of the Old Republic. He was ambitious and ruthless, and did whatever he could to ensure the survival of the Sith Empire. He was manipulative, framing the Republic for his crimes to gain the trust of the other Sith. However, he was also overconfident, and thus ensured his own downfall. He was a powerful "magician" with the force, having dipped his fingers in forbidden arts.I don't want you all to believe that was a random Star Wars history lesson. Argonians are not very open, but some of that will probably be reflected in this short story of Itan-Ru's life.Anyway, like I said, I did my best with keeping to the lore but there is little to nothing known of the Argonians. I did my best.





	1. Chapter 1

Itan-Ru was the name given to me by my late mother at my naming ceremony, but I have been called Sea-Walker by some in the native tongue of Cyrodiil. My father is Okan-Ru from the Sarpa tribe of Black Marsh, my mother Am-Ra of the Naga tribe. Their pairing was not an easy one, often gaining reticule from the other tribes for crossing with an outsider. Family relationships diminished, and they lived troubled lives together. The tribes they belonged to still accepted them as equals, but did not respect their decision to marry. 

I was hatched late in the third era, during the month of Second Seed, under the sign of the Shadow. Usually a Shadowscale such as myself would be greeted with joy by those of the various tribes, but not for my mother. As she held me in her arms, my scales their natural royal blue, she refused to give me to the Brotherhood for training later in my life. The arguments were heated, and it appeared as though a fight would break out. As my mother told me several years after the incident, my father was the one to settle everything. “Enough,” he bellowed, crossing his red tinged arms. His black claws clicked on his scales as his gaze traveled from the Speaker that had appeared and my mother. “Give us until his tenth birthday. On his naming day, we will have an answer for you. But, please, give us until then.” 

The Bosmer in black robes narrowed his eyes. Ungolim, I think his name was. “You have until his sixth. His naming day must be as soon as possible, and the boy turned over to us. You both know the tenets, and how seriously the Kingdom of Argonia takes them. You have six years.” With a snarl, he turned and left the tent. I was sleeping at the time, but my mother held me to her bosom and cried. I was fated to join the Brotherhood, but Am-Ra was willing to do whatever she could to prevent that. 

I suppose to make things easier for you to understand, I should explain a bit about my parents. My father was gifted in the magicks, having been born under the sign of the Magician. He was well renowned among both my peoples. My mother was not much to look at, as most people believed, but she had a brilliant mind. Some believed that my father cast a spell over her when I was conceived to turn my scales blue so I would be a more successful hunter in the water. Whether they did that or not, I do not know, but I would not blame them if it were true. 

Even when I was young I showed a talent for the magick arts. My father took great pride in this, teaching me everything he could at my young age. I was by no means a master, considering my youth, but he often said I had great potential. Even to this day I practice the same drills he taught me back then. They don’t advance my skills at all, but they help me connect with my past. 

I remember vividly the first time I did something to anger my father. He had been training me only in the basic arts, but I wanted more. I couldn’t yet read, but I tried experimenting with my restoration and conjuration knowledge. There came a day when I was out swimming and saw a very badly injured fawn. It appeared to have lost its footing and fallen down a steep hill and broken its back legs. My heart went out to the poor thing, and I carried it home in my arms. My father, though he loved me, was a strict man. He didn’t want the fawn in our tent and made me kill it. I cried, holding the thing in my arms as it bleated in fear. Knowing I would not, he took the fawn out of the tent and snapped its neck. “You must know when any attempt is futile, my son,” he told me when he returned. “That fawn would not have lived, even if you tried to save it. To kill it would have been merciful, then it would not suffer.” In my youth, I did not understand what he was trying to tell me then. I convinced myself that I hated him for doing that, and ran out of the tent in tears. How silly I was then. 

I ran to the place where the fawns body lay, and continually cast a restoration spell on it, just hoping it would wake up. It seemed that nothing would happen until I accidentally combined a conjuration spell that I had watched my father complete only once and the restoration spell I had been casting. They mixed, covering the body of the fawn in a sickly green light. I scrambled backwards, watching as a transparent white form rose from the dead creature. It was hard to make out, at first, but the manifestation was the fawn’s spirit. The specter was weak, but it was there. The spirit bleated, looking at me, and ran off in another direction. The farther away it got, the more it faded, until it was gone from view. 

For hours I sat there staring at where the fawn had vanished. Am-Ra’s voice calling for me didn’t even shake me from my thoughts. What had I done? Did I… bring the fawn back to life? I couldn’t have, the body was still on the ground before me. Then what did I see? “Son!” my mother finally saw me sitting there. “What are you doing out here?” Her eyes wandered over to the corpse. “Oh, I’m sorry. But your father was right, there was no hope for the poor thing. Come, dinner is ready.” I followed her home, my mind still following the specter fawn through the marsh. 

I mentioned the next day to my father what I had done, and he was completely livid. He shouted, cursed, and threw his arms around in anger. "You will never do such a thing again! Necromancy is strictly forbidden in this family! Never, ever attempt to bring back the dead!" I whimpered, nodding my head in compliance. Even though I agreed never to try Necromancy, it still fascinated me. I couldn't help it, I wanted to do it again. 

The so called “black arts” became my passion, even at a young age. I was captivated by the prospect of bringing life back to a cold corpse. First I started with simple creatures, rabbits, deer, the occasional mudcrab. As I grew, so did my motivation to learn as much as I could. Eventually, I was able to completely resurrect the corps of a land dreugh. My practice wasn’t perfect, however. The body would reanimate, but it was a simple husk, only able to understand simple commands. I did make the best of it. 

There was this young female in my mother’s tribe, a beauty with scales that faded from green to red in all the right places. Her face was serpentine, just like it should be within the Naga. I liked her, I will admit. But, being the foolish young child I was, I tried to hide it. Hey, I hadn’t even had my naming ceremony! I was still considered a baby. She was older than I, having been named this past hatching season. Nakuma her parents had decided, Runner-of-Sands to the other species. To get her attention, because that was all I desired, I was always sending the reanimated corpses of young animals that I had killed. She always greeted them happily, not realizing they were lifeless husks, until I would suck the life out of them. I laughed hearing her scream as the animal fell, running before she found me. Over time she learned to tell my thralls from living creatures, and would avoid them like the Crimson Plague. 

Even to this day I don’t know how I managed it, but mere days before my Naming Ceremony I convinced Nakuma to lick the sap from the Hist Tree with me. Maybe the Dragon Tongue bouquet I gave her had something to do with it. What can I say, even at nearly six-years I was a romantic. We were hiding in a soft patch of brush, watching as our parents and others prepared for my Naming Ceremony. At that age I didn’t realize how big of a deal it was going to be. I didn’t know about the Bosmer coming to collect. 

When things went quiet, Nakuma took her nail and carved a small gash into the trunk of the tree. A small trail of clear liquid oozed from the cut, dripping onto her fingers. Grinning widely, she held it out to me. I sniffed it first. The sap gave off no scent, but still it caused me to get woozy. I licked her finger hesitantly, but something overcame me and I nearly took her finger off.”Hey! Careful!” she hissed. Dots danced before my eyes as I stared at her. It was… odd, now that I think back to it. 

“Whose in there?” a voice called at us. 

“Oh, for Sithis sake!” she cursed, grabbing my arm and pulling me around to the other side of the tree. “You idiot, they found us!” 

“Nakuma, is that you? Get out here now, you shouldn’t be licking sap.” 

The world was moving around me, the colors were more vibrant. I thought I was in Sheogorath’s realm for a moment before everything started to settle down. Nakuma slapped me, bringing my mind back to. “Listen to me, you idiot. If I get in trouble for this blue-scales, it’s all your fault!” All the kids had become accustomed to calling me blue-scales. It was a form of racial slur, I realized later. They segregated me because I was different. 

“Nakuma, why are you with… oh, its Okan-Ru’s boy! This isn’t good.” The older Argonian, most of her scales had turned red, picked me up in her arms, pointing a clawed finger at the girl in the bushes. “You should know better! Poor boy. Get on home.” Nakuma ran off, but I was more focused on the still moving earth as I was carried back to my parents tent. 

I was scolded fiercely for that act of stupidity. My father was absolutely livid. “There is a reason they forbid young ones from licking sap! Are you listening to me?” The Hist was still in my system, making it hard for me to focus on his words. 

“Yussir,” I slurred. He grabbed my face in his hands, looking me over. I did my best to avoid his gaze. 

“At least you didn’t consume much.” Okan-Ru shook his head, pacing the tent. “There’s a lot of stress on both your mother and I, boy. You do not realize this yet, but you will.” He threw open the door, stalking out into the sun with a hunch in his shoulders. I didn’t know why then, but my mother was crying. I supposed it was because of the little mishap with Nakuma. 

I stayed in the tent until the Naming ceremony day, not exactly wanting to face my father or any of the others that had arrived around the Hist Tree. Occasionally I would see a short man in black hooded robes. Every time I saw him I would stick my head out of the tent until he was gone. Something about him was petrifying, but at the same time he was intriguing. 


	2. Chapter 2

My mother painted my cheeks with the red clay that they dug up from the bottom of the marsh. It was itchy and irritated my scales, but she would swat away my hand every time I tried to scratch. “Stop that!” she scolded, putting a long stripe down my snout. “This is a very important day, my son. For you, me, and your father.” I thought maybe it was just because I was getting my name, I had no idea it was because of the man in black. 

The chanting outside started slow, but the pace increased and was soon a jumble of hisses and clicks. To someone outside the camp they may have thought it was a large mass of overly loud crickets. It was deafening. My mother made the last mark, a line following a bone on my left foot. My body was covered with these markings, all made with the same red clay. I couldn’t even wear my trousers. I felt so completely exposed that I started to shake. “It’s all right,” Am-Ra soothed me, rubbing a finger against the spike at the base of my skull. “It’ll be all right.” She was crying now, but quickly wiped away the tears. 

“Am-Ra,” my father stuck his head into the tent. “Is he ready?” She nodded but did not speak. 

My parents walked behind me as I followed the path winding through the different tribes. I passed everyone, my eyes focused on the ground in front of me. Apparently I was to make no such form of eye contact until I received my name. the chanting continued, but every once and a while I would hear a stuttered gasp. Not everyone knew that I had blue scales, but there had been rumors. Just seeing that the rumors about a blue-scaled Argonian were true was enough to disrupt the chanting on several occasions. 

We reached the clearning that had been made around the Hist Tree when I heard the elder speak. “Okan-Ru, Am-Ra.” He spoke their names in the actual Hist tongue, a language I only knew some of. I was taught mostly Cyrodiilic, but I knew enough Hist to understand most of what he was saying. I hoped so, anyway. After saying my parents names, there were a few phrases I did not know. “Ikmakem ejkimas hekam fromkas eimejei emahej miejlas ralmimsa. Jelramka imras lirmerea ejemalirme. Raljiktar isdaim ejema.” He paused, but I could not see what he was doing. Some cold liquid was pressed against my forehead, dripping down between my eyes to my nostrils. When I started to get woozy, I knew the liquid was sap. Why it was so cold, I did not know. “We of Argonia,” he continued, using words I actually knew, “accept this child as a full member of our community. Okan-Ru, what is the child’s name?” 

I saw his feet shuffle as my father straightened his back. “Itan-Ru, Sea-Walker.” 

“Look at me now, Itan-Ru.” I obeyed, looking up into the face of the elder. Beside him was the man in black. With both hands he held out a small vial, which I accepted the same way. “Drink this, Itan-Ru, and receive your name with pride.” The liquid was cool as it went down my throat. It was sap, I knew that much. I drank it all, holding the vial tight so it would not fall. The world started spinning until it was a cluster of colors with no apparent shape. There was a small speck of black that grew until it was all that I could see. 

My mother told me at a later time what happened after I passed out. The man in black, the same Bosmer that had come on the day of my hatching, stepped forward and took the place of the Elder. “You know our deal, Argonians. What will the fate of the boy be?” Okan-Ru looked at my mother, shaking his head ever so slightly. 

“Take him, if you must.” He was about to say more, but my mother drove her talon-shaped blade up under his ribcage. 

“No!” she screamed. “You shall not have him!” A gasp emanated from the crowd as they watched my father fall. Ungolim did not flinch. My mother scooped me up in her arms, taking off at a full sprint out of the camp. She caught an arrow in the shoulder, stumbling forward, but kept running. Her pace slowed to a jog some where in the middle of the marsh. The area was completely new and she was lost. 

Our situation was just as bad, if not worse, when I woke up. My mother tended to me as best she could, to make sure the process was completed. If circumstances were normal, I would have been given a Dragon’s Tongue poultice in order to wake me up sooner. However, the conditions were not normal, and the root solution she fed me periodically did not work nearly as well as it should have. My father was the alchemy master, not my mother. I was out for two days or more as she carried me around the deepest depths of Argonia. 

When I finally did wake up, I saw my mothers face staring down at me. She stroked a finger across my forehead, looking me over. “Oh, good,” she smiled, helping me up. “How are you feeling?” I groaned, pushing myself up. We were in a very poor, makeshift camp somewhere that I did not recognize. 

“Where are we? Is dis part of’t cer’mony?” I mumbled, feeling very sleepy. 

“No, we’re safe now.” I was genuinely surprised by how well my mother could hide her natural Argonia accent. It was completely gone as she spoke to me, replaced by a central Cyrodiilic one. 

“Where’s fawther?” 

“He… stayed behind.” Am-Ra winced, taking a hand to her shoulder and drinking a foul smelling liquid. 

“Mawther, wha’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing.” But I could see the blood seeping through the bandages. 

“Mawther, wha’s goin’ on, why’r you bleeding?” 

“Bad people are after us.” She said something else, but my mind wandered to the man in black at the ceremony. 

We were on the run for years. I never knew exactly why, but I always had my suspicions. I accepted things as they were, doing my best to practice my magick and… other hobbies. 

It was twelve years before anyone caught up to us. Am-Ra’s mind was the only reason we stayed hidden for so long. She could tell where they would look for us and at what time of the day. Often times, we camped during the day up in the trees, and traveled through the swamp at night. Very rarely would she let us start a fire, unless we had a completely sheltered area where smoke and light could not be seen. I was o blame, however, when we were finally found. 

We had wandered around the western edge of Black Marsh, as I now called it, for some time. Being so close to Cyrodiil I had to learn to speak without an accent and show respect to the other species of the Empire. I found that easy to do, unless of course it was a Dunmer. Back home I was taught to hate all of the ashborn for what they did to our race in the second era. My heart still seethed after learning the kinds of atrocities they committed. 

My mother had asked me to go into Leyawiin for supplies, as we were low on food and certain alchemy ingredients that we would need to survive in the outer marshes. I had never been out of Black Marsh, but I tried not to show it. The Imperial guard greeted me absently, not actually paying attention to me as I passed through the outer gates. The city was bustling, despite the muggy heat, the majority of the population consisting of Khajiit and other Argonians. The Mages Guild, where I could possibly buy some supplies, was on the western side of the city. Am-Ra and I had collected a large population of somnalius fern fronds, a rare ingredient for sleeping potions. They could fetch a nice price here and I could use the money to buy food. 

“Itan-Ru?” a soft voice from behind me whispered. I was in the rough side of town, and figured it was another Argonian who had heard rumors of my existence. Was I in for a surprise. I turned, only to have a young Argonian female fall into my arms. As I lowered her slowly to the ground I noticed bite scars on one of her fingers, but the deep sword wound across her abdomen caused me more worry. 

“Nakuma?” I whispered, pulling back her black leather hood. “What ‘appened t’you?” My accent still needed some work. 

“Guards,” she breathed. Just as she spoke, three Leyawiin city guards came around the bend with their blades drawn. 

“You there!” the leader of the pack shouted. “Hand over that murderer at once!” I did not take orders kindly, especially not with Nakuma in my arms. I cast an invisibility spell over the two of us, running down the street and avoiding puddles. Water would only clue them in to our location. I took refuge only a few building away, watching as the guards searched through the streets. It was getting dark and Am-Ra would be expecting me, but I couldn’t leave Nakuma here. Not now, not in her condition. 

I waited by the exit, still invisible with Nakuma in my arms, until a traveler passed through and I slipped out unnoticed. Once clear of the guards, I dispelled the two of us, and cast restoration over her wound. It sealed up, but she had lost a lot of blood. Her black leather armor was covered in smaller cuts and scrapes, with only a few breaking through to the skin, but the one on her abdomen was the worst. I wouldn’t be able to heal her completely while under threat of the guards. I had to get back to camp. 

My mother stood up expectantly when she heard me coming, but snarled and drew her blade when she saw me at last. “Get that monster away from here!” she ordered, glaring down at Nakuma. “I will not have her in my camp!” 

“She’s ‘urt, Mawther. Sh’needs my ‘elp.” 

“She and her Kin will kill us both! Get her out of here!” Completely disregarding her orders, I placed Nakuma on my bedroll and dug into my pack to search for some healing potions. There wasn’t a one. Not even the ingredients I would need to make them could be found. Am-Ra charged the unconscious Nakuma, her taloned blade drawn. I caught her arm, twising it around her back. 

“Mawther, please. Sh’needs my ‘elp. Please.” She hissed, pulling herself away. 

“Where is the money and food from the fern fronds?” I swallowed hard, remembering I had dropped them in the street when Nakuma fell into my arms. I didn’t have money either. Am-Ra snarled, circling our camp. “I’m going into town. Don’t you dare do anything stupid! I will be back in a few hours. Keep quiet! And no fire.” 

I obeyed her, for the most part. I needed a fire to burn down some base ingredients for Nakuma. I didn’t have any of the main ingredients for a healing potion, but I could mix a few to get a weak one. It was better than nothing. I thought about just casting another of my restoration spells on her, but I shook my head. Her surface wound was healed, she needed help within the body now. 

Less than an hour later Am-Ra came running back into the camp, screaming bloody murder. “They’ve found us! Damn Ungolim found us!” She threw me her bag of things, quickly starting to pack. “We need to move, son. Now! Forget her, she’s dead anyway! Come now!” I didn’t move. Finally I could see who had been chasing us all these years. When I was younger I followed her orders, but I was just a kid then. I was nearly old enough to start my own family now, and I wanted to know why she was so afraid. 

“No.” 

“What?” she threw a glare back at me, pausing in the middle of packing. 

I dropped her back by the fire and crossed my arms. “No.” 

“You little-” My mother was cut off as an arrow hit her in the center of the chest, throwing her backward. Something cracked when she hit the ground, and I could only assume that she was slowly dying. Black robed figures came out of the dark, surrounding our camp. 

“Am-Ra, you should have listened,” a shorter man walked forward, placing a blossom of nightshade on her. She gasped at him, only a few hisses and grunts coming out. “You committed treason, Argonian. The punishment for that, is death.” He turned back to me, pulling back his hood to show the same face of the Bosmer from all those years ago. Ungolim. “Welcome to the family,” he whispered. 

I bolted, running for the border. He killed my mother in cold blood, what was to stop him from killing me?


	3. Chapter 3

I used the lakes and rivers of Cyrodiil to my advantage, never traveling by land for long. I stayed away for a couple days, but there was still the urge to go back to where they killed my mother and bury her. Perhaps I could even bring her back. I had gotten quite good at my resurrection skills, there were even a few subjects that didn’t show the rapid decomposition of husks. But they were animals, and my mother was an Argonian. There was one hell of a difference there. Despite that, I still went back. 

The fire had burned out, but both Nakuma and my mother were still at the camp. I assumed that she had been too far gone when they attacked, and that was why they didn’t take her back with them. But one can only make assumptions. I sat between them, shaking with a sudden sense of lost. I had no one to go to now. My father was dead, my mother was dead, Nakuma was dead, I might as well have been dead. 

In a sudden episode of desperation, I cast a massive spell over their corpses. They levitated for a moment, then slowly rose to their feet. No decomposition showed in their faces or portions of skin that showed. There were no wounds, no apparent damage to the bodies. “Itan-Ru?” Nakuma’s same small voice called to me. I grinned widely, running over and wrapped her in a hug. Am-Ra, however, had a different reaction. She screamed, running out of the camp wildly. I tried going after her, but Nakuma caught my arm. “No, please. We’ll go find her later. Stay here, with me?” 

“A’right,” I breathed as she leaned in closer to me. Her hand rubbed over my chest, trailing downward until she grasped me in her hand. I let out a sudden breath, looking down at her. 

“Please?” she whispered. Nakuma pulled me back towards the tent, slowly unbuckling her strange armor until she stood bare before me. Her beautiful scales glittered in the twilight, and I couldn’t help myself as I took her. 

As I came to an end, she let out a strangled scream. I assumed it was in pleasure, but when I looked down at her the life in her red eyes was gone. She had left this world again. I gasped, taking myself from her, and staring down at her body. I tried casting the same spell again, but I could not remember how I had done it! Every combination I tried did not work, but every time her body became more and more worn until it barely resembled that of the Nakuma I had just loved. She was gone again, and I could not bring her back. The only chance I had left was my mother, who was lost somewhere in the marsh. 

It did not take long to find her. Am-Ra was several hundred yards away, slumped by a tree. There were no signs of any trauma or injury. Like Nakuma, she had just… died. I assumed my spell was only temporary, which made sense considering how effective it was. I was alone again, and had no idea where I was going to go. 

I wandered for months, never staying in the same place for more than a few hours. My mother may not have taught me anything on purpose, but I did learn a few of ther strategies. Occasionally I would pass a lone straggler on the road, heading somewhere I did not know. I often played on their trust, saying that I was heading in the same direction they were, and I would be offered company. When night came, I would kill them with my mother’s dagger. I needed to perfect my skills. I needed to find a way to bring Nakuma back. 

During my time of research, I had an interesting breakthrough. I found that if a form of destruction had been added to the mix of spells, the subjects would become volatile. That is, if they didn’t explode during the process of creating a husk. It was an interesting discovery, but wasn’t what I was looking for! 

I had just killed another, a Khajiit woman, when figures in black robes ambushed me. My mind flashed back to the night Am-Ra and Nakuma were killed. My mother’s dagger lay several feet away from me, by the fire, but the figures dragge me away from it. “L’go! I’ll Ki’you all!” 

“There’s no need for that,” a husky female voice whispered in my ear. A slice of cloth was tied around my head, covering my eyes, as a plant was passed over my nostrils. Instantly I recognized it as a somnalius fern frond. It made me woozy and disoriented, but didn’t knock me out. The natives of Black Marsh had a natural resistance to it. I assumed they didn’t know that, but perhaps the did. The blind fold prevented me from seeing my surroundings, and the constant scent of the fern kept me from focusing on the world around me. I only knew that I was in danger 

The hooded figures strapped me across the back of a horse’s saddle. It could have been a mule for all I knew. I was exhausted already from the taxing day and the fern that was still at my nostrils only promised sleep. What trouble would it cause if I slept for a while? The rest of my body agreed, but I could not drift off. I was constantly aware of the clopping hooves as I was transported cross-country. 

My trip wasn’t long, and I was soon carried into a sort of cave or ruin. I only knew it as such because of the damp air and the subtle trickling of water. “Leave us,” a male voice ordered as I was dropped heavily to the ground. 

I looked up into the eyes of an Altmer. His eyes showed great wisdom and power, but none of that showed in his face. The glories of being a Mer. “I’ve been following you, Itan-Ru,” he spoke, walking in circles around me. “The way you kill and experiment on the corpses. I’m quite surprised the Dark Brotherhood or the Kingdom of Argonia haven’t tracked you down yet. What you have done is blasphemy.” I flinched, expecting him to strike, but he just laughed. “You have skills that I need, Argonian. I’m offering you a unique opportunity. All of us here are your brothers and sisters in death. We are all necromancers.” The Altmer turned his back to me, pacing to an altar with the pages of a book open. “You may have heard of the King of Worms. He exists, Argonian, and I am he. Even if you refuse, I will make you work for me. You have a chance to join me willingly and be free, or die and serve me as I see fit. I can teach you many things. Perhaps even how to bring back someone you loved, even if it was only just that once.” My eyes snapped up, meeting with his. This King of Worms, Mannimarco, could give me my Nakuma back? Truly? “What say you?” I stood, brushing the loose dirt from my stained clothes, and nodded. “Very good. Surane, fetch him some adept’s robes. We will see how they suit him.” A middle aged Breton woman with brown hair cropped close to her head nodded, leaving the cavern quickly. She returned shortly, her green eyes gleaming with lust as she handed the robes over. I flinched, not expecting that look. 

“Come see me later, when you’re comfortable,” she whispered in my ear. It was the same husky voice as before. 

“Don’t mind Surane,” Mannimarco laughed. “She’s a Breton, you know how they get.” 

“I thou’t that was jest Ashborn?” I tried so hard to fix my outlandish accent, but failed. Again, he laughed. 

“Not just the Ashborn, as you call them. Bretons are just as bad, only they hide it better.” He looked me over, rubbing his chin. “You really are a fascinating creature. So tall, and with blue scales! I’ve never seen an Argonian such as yourself. A nearly perfect subject in every way.” 

“Wha’s wrong with me?” 

“That accent. You will be clearly marked as a Black Marsh Argonian with that tongue. We must work on fixing that. Although the blue scales don’t help you remain hidden, proper speech will.” 

“Remain ‘idden?” I flashed a toothy grin, using my shadowscale prowess to vanish from sight. 

“A shadowscale! How magnificent! Truly wonderful!” He clapped in appraisal. “I do wonder now how the Night Mother and her minions haven’t found you.” 

“I ‘ide well.” 

“I can see that. Come, let me show you your quarters.” I reappeared, following him out the door. The cave system was massive, housing several dozen necromancers, each with robes corresponding to their ranks. I seemed to be the only one not wearing any. I also noticed a great amount of Bretons and Altmer, the Bosmer almost as abundant, with a few Ashborn. Imperials were scarce, and their were no beast races. I seemed to be the only one. Some Ashborn glared at me as I passed, getting a low hiss from mein return. 

The Bosmer woman appeared again, just outside a small side cavern with an inlaid wooden door and frame. “Your chambers,” she whispered, opening the door before me. It was nothing extravagant, but better than my housing had been the rest of my life. I was given a bed, books galore, and all sorts of alchemy equipment. Everything I would ever need to continue my experiments. There were even two fresh corpses stored away in coffins on the far wall. “Surane here will tutor you, as she knows many secrets that those of the Mages Guild would slaughter her because of. Use her well, in whatever way you need.” Mannimarco winked at me, walking away. 

I thought Surane had left with him, so I turned my back to the door and started undressing to try on the robes I had been given. Only my shirt managed to be disposed of before she jumped me, throwing enough force to knock me back on the bed. She straddled my waist, leering down at me as she started to remove her clothes. The sex, I dare not call it love making, was rough but I liked it. The struggle for dominance, attempting to show power over the other until they submitted. It was invigorating. 

She was quick out of bed, returning her clothes over her slightly glistening body. “I’ll give you some time to rest,” her husky voice echoed in my ears. “Let you get used to your new surroundings.” 

I spent weeks, months, maybe years hidden away in this cave. Time had no meaning, only what my body told me. Surane trained me in both necromancy and speech, soon both of those skills excelled. My Black Marsh accent had vanished, and I had been taught how to summon spirits from my past. 

We started out slow, a minor being. The Breton made me think back to when I first summoned the ghost of that fawn. I had to focus on it, let the power flow through my body. Even without thinking about the summoning itself, the fawns bleat bounced off the stone walls. I opened my eyes, seeing its ghostly shape bounding around the cavern. Surane was smiling widely. “A better start than most,” she grinned, edging closer. Despite her advance, I was too focused on the spirit. I was a child again, sitting by the dead body of the creature, crying. The memory flooded my senses. I could see, touch, feel, smell everything as if it were happening again. “Itan-Ru,” I heard my mother’s voice calling to me again. “Itan-Ru!” Suddenly I was awake again, Surane shaking my shoulders. “Itan-Ru! Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I’m… fine. Just a little shaken.” 

“He touched you, didn’t He?” 

“I don’t think so.” I shook my head, pushing her away. Whether it was Him or not, I didn’t know, but something happened. Maybe it was the spirit, giving me back that memory. I just didn’t know. “I need some rest.” I walked away from Surane, heading back to my chambers so I could think. 

Mannimarco had requested that I prepare myself for a job he needed me to do. A powerful mage had just been accepted into the Arcane University, and I was supposed to stop his advance. Or at least attempt to hinder it. This memory that came back threw my head around, giving me a headache and not letting me think. The male Khajiit captive in my quarters whined and struggled against his ties when I entered. I could experiment on him like I had the others, but he had something else I needed. He was the mate of a Khajiit in the caverns where young Mages created their staves. He had what I needed to enter. “Ri’Raverr,” I spoke quietly, my face hidden behind my hood. “I have no quarrel with you, but you’ve impeded my progress too many times.” I inhaled deeply, letting out a long exhale of breath. “I have the key, you know. I found it, despite all of your blathering and pointless ramble. You are of no use to me anymore. Or perhaps…” I slid my blade silently between his ribs, puncturing a lung. He was in perfect health, and would be the ideal subject for further study on the different anatomy of the races. Bretons… I knew them quite well, thanks to Surane. Redguards and Imperials weren’t very differen’t. Since my arrival here, I increased my study on the Dunmer anatomy to further know how to cause them pain. Occasionally I would even bring in a live subject. They never lasted long. Khajiits I didn’t care so much about, but I had to find a use for his husk. Maybe I’d just make him my worm. I could always find a use for a mindless husk.


	4. Chapter 4

"Zahrasha, you know who I am. You know what I can do. Give me what I need, and you may see your Do again." The female Khajiit yowled as I pressed a red hot blade agasint her skin. Little did she know, I killed her mate Ri’Raverr the prior evening. He was currently in my quarters cleaning. I took him apart first, then put him back together. That Khajiit was a decent slave, but I could find better. Maybe I'd get rid of him when I get back. 

"No! I can't!" she cried, her claws digging into the dirt. I sighed loudly, she was no better than Ri’Raverr, but she'd die all the same. 

"Very well then." I plunged the burning blade through her chest, twisting it until the gurgling sound from her chest stopped. "Noveni, kill them all." The new Mage was supposed to be coming here soon, but we had no other information on him, or her. These Mage's Guild dogs were resistant, but I'd figure it out soon enough. My Nakuma depended on it. The soft bleating from behind me made me groan. It was that damned fawn. Ever since I called it back with Surane's help, it hasn't left me alone. It followed me everywhere! I tried casting turn undead on it, but it would just come back when the spell wore off. "Get out of here," I hissed at it, watching as the Dunmer acolyte slit Eletta's throat. It bleated again, prancing around the cave. I rolled my eyes, following Noveni as she dragged the corpse up through to the grove. "Wait here for the Mage. Whoever they are, they'll be here soon enough." She nodded, calling orders out to the others. She may have been a Dunmer, but they listened to her. 

I slipped my way back through the caverns, intending to leave, but i was forced to cast an invisibility spell overmyself ad duck behind a section of rubble. The Mage was here. He was an Imperial with dark brooding eyes. I would not have expected this man to be a superior mage, but I knew better than to trust first impressions. Mannimarco would want to hear about this, but this was my chance to see what he could do. I followed him as he slaughtered my compatriots, but I could do nothing to defend them. He far surpassed my own magickal abilities, and attacking him would be a suicide mission. Noveni cast a paralysis spell over him the instant he exited the caverns, freezing him in place. "What have we here?" She spoke, walking circles around him. At first glance I would have thought her spell worked, but I saw his fingers twitching by the hilt of his blade. Noveni had made a grave mistake. "Another play thing? You'll dance for me, little one, yes, you will. I'll make your corpse dance, and then tear itself apart!" Before she could say another word, he drew his blade, burying it in her neck. The others fell quickly, leaving me to be the only living Necromancer from this mission. I'd have to report back to Mannimarco about this, but I knew more now that we did before. At least that was a small amount of good news. 

The Mage finished quickly, muttering curses as he kicked the corpses. At one point I swore he mentioned something about Sithis, but I couldn't be sure. There was nothing else for me to see here. Instead of going back through the cavern and risking being seen, I dove off the steep side of the island, vanishing into the water. Just to make sure I wasn't followed, I recast the same invisibility spell. That Mage would only be able to follow if he had a strong enough detect life, but when I reached the other shore and still saw him standing in the grove, I doubted that he did. 

I paced around the Skingrad Countyhall, impatient as ever. Mannimarco didn't take the news of my failure well. He had put me in charge of taking care of this Mage for a reason, and I had failed him. He had slaughtered every one of them. Alone! This had to be where he was stopped. He couldn't be allowed to continue. If he was allowed to get any stronger, he'd kill us all. "Can I help you?" a female Imperial voice made me pause. I turned around casually, glad I had refrained from wearing my robes. Her eyes gleamed red as they met mine, a curious discovery. A vampire in the castle of another, who had a clear hatred for his own kind. This was very interesting indeed. 

"Just waiting for a friend, ma'am." 

"Alright." She gave me a sidelong glance, but slipped out through the front gate. She was the only one, excluding myself and the guards, who was carrying a weapon. Who was this woman? Had I the time, I would have followed her. She could have made a great worm. Powerful, immortal, and with a face that anyone could trust. She could be put to many uses. But I had other duties to perform, and she was not involved. 

"Itan-Ru?" Mercator's voice turned me around. "What can I do for you?" This pesky man was very low within our ranks, low enough to get the spurned heel of even the Dunmer acolytes. He was lucky I allowed him to get this assignment, and it was only because he had decided to work for the Count of Skingrad. Had he not, I might have killed him just for fun. 

"The Mage is coming here. Distract him, delay him, do whatever you can. Kill him, if you can. But do not, I repeat, do not let him see the Count. He's going to be looking for a book, but that's all we know. Make sure he doesn't get it." 

"Is there anything you can tell me about him?" Mercator seemed nevous. He should be. If he failed and the Mage didn't kill him, I would. He'd be wearing his insides as he walked around the caverns of Pothole Caverns where I had made my home with the others. 

"Nothing that you don't already know." 

Sovereign take them all! These Mages Guild dogs have beat us at every turn! Othran was dead, as was Mercator, Arterion, and Mondrar. Falcar had even been followed to the Dark Fissure and got the Worm Anchorite killed! The fool! But I had an ace in the hole. We had a mole, an Imperial who had been feeding that lecher Traven all the intel he needed. I was going to slaughter him and send his head back to the Arch Mage, but Surane had suggested we turn him into a worm thrall and bring the pesky Mage right to us. She was brilliant, just as Mannimarco had told me. We waited at Nenyond Twyll, fully prepared for the attack. What we didn't expect, however, was for that idiot Traven to send a squadron of Battle Mages to us first. We took care of them, but the dwindled our numbers. Perhaps even enough for that Mage to kill us all. What the others didn't know what that Mannimarco had instructed for me to escape, even if that meant every one else would die, and the Mage would get away. I thought that, if anyone, he would want Surane, but my assumption was wrong. Still, I couldn't leave her behind, I needed her, and not just to teach me how to bring Nakuma back. 

The Mage showed up, given time, and the last of those blasted Battle Mages died quickly. But that only seemed to anger the Mage. He slaughtered us, one by one. I knew that, once I saw him coming, I had to get out of the way. If I didn't, I'd be quickly killed. It was a cowardly move, but I had to do it. I cast an invisibility spell over myself, keeping out of his sight. I tried to cast it over Surane as well, but she pushed me away. "No! I will deal with this bastard myself!" She shouted, running forward to meet him. I cried out after her, but it was hopeless. She fell to his blade quickly, barely allowed to put up a fight. I could not scream, not then, for the Mage would hear me. I kept quiet, remaining in place as he searched the area for the mole we had turned into a worm thrall. He found him quickly, shouting a loud string of curses. He would return to Traven, report what he found, and then be off to slaughter more of my compatriots. It was inevitable, and I had failed again. I had to stop this man somehow. The more of us he killed, the closer he got to Mannimarco. 

I paced back and forth in my chambers deep within Pothole Caverns. This couldn't be happening! One simple mage had managed to slaughter my entire group at Nenyond Twyll. All of them! Alone! Not even that blasted Altmer woman I had killed put up this kind of fight. Nervosa something, I believe her name was. She was a quick and easy target, and the Archmage! But this Imperial, this lonely mage, he decimated us! There was something else at work here, there had to be. He was nearly as powerful, if not just as powerful, as the legendary Breton that had been in the stories when I was a child. Just thinking about my past brought a pang to my chest. I flinched, looking over my shoulder to see if anyone had noticed. It didn't seem so, but the sight of a Dunmer with a deep scowl etched into his face caused my blood to boil. I knew this Dunmer, and he was not on my good side. If Mannimarco had not instructed me to refrain from killing, he would have been a worm thrall ages ago. 

"Bastard Argonian!" he shouted, swinging a punch at me. I quickly cast invisibility over myself, ducking under his arm and rounding to his back side. He stumbled in surprise, shouting a sting of curses in Dunmeri. "Get out here, you coward!" 

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice low, as I circled around him. He threw out his fist again, but hit nothing but air. 

"Your failures are killing us all! First, my darling sister at Wellspring Grove. Now, you get my beloved Surane killed! And yet you walk out, unscathed, every time! You are nothing but a coward, blue-scales!" I snapped at the mention of the name the younger Argonians use to call me in disgrace. Hissing loudly, I grabbed his throat and threw him down to the ground, a frost spell on my fingers. He struggled hopelessly as my grip tightened and slowly his throat turned to ice. Had his face not been blue already, it may have been now. He was gagging as the blood and air was stopped in his throat. The snarl on my face didn't lessen as his eyes started rolling to the back of his head. 

"Your beloved Surane?" I hissed. "Yours? You fool, she was mine." 

"That's enough, Itan-Ru!" the King of Worms ordered me. Keeping my lips pulled back and my teeth bare, I backed off, letting the blood and air reach the bastards head. All Dunmer were the same. Selfish, hot headed idiots. They never know when they're in over their heads. Look what they did to my people. They thought they could control us, but we showed them what we could do. "I won't have you killing the few acolytes we have left. Is that clear?" 

"Yes, King of Worms." I nodded, backing away with a glare that never left the struggling Dunmer. 

"Leave us, Sadairan, and do not speak to anyone until I have spoken to you." 

"Yes, King of Worms." He bowed, leaving the corridor. 

"Itan-Ru, come speak with me for a moment." The Altmer put a hand on my shoulder, leading me towards my latest casualty. My poor, dear Surane. I brought her back with me, knowing perhaps the King of Worms could do something with her corpse. Her face still had dried blood all over it, her chest cleaved open by that mage. "It may not seem like it now, but we are winning this war with those dogs." 

I looked up at him, confusion showing in my eyes. "Winning? How can we be winning when we've lost so many already?" 

"They think us fools, unable to think and plan. But I have you, Itan-Ru. Your plans have got us this far already, but I have another thing to ask of you." 

"Anything, King of Worms." 

"Traven has two artifacts which are very important to us. The Necromancers Amulet and the Bloodworm Helm. If we had those two items, that would tips things in our favor greatly. I have some business to deal with in Bruma before I return to echo cave. While I'm there, I ask that you go to the Imperial City and see what you can do about getting those two artifacts." 

"Yes, King of Worms. I will do my best." 

"When don't you?" He smiled, patting my shoulder, before he turned and left my quarters. Only two items? That should not be difficult. No one outside of the Necromancers knew my face. I was considered a Worm Anchorite, having spent most of my time here alone in my quarters furthering my skills and praying to our Sovereign. That would be used to my advantage, allowing me to enter the Arcane University without arousing any suspicion. 

The Imperial had left with the Bloodoworm Helm before I arrived, but I caught the Altmer just as she exited the University. I'd get the amulet from her, and find where the other was hiding. "What do you want, Argonian?" her voice was shaking. She was clearly nervous from something. "Make it quick. I... I have to get out of the city!" 

"Oh? I can help you, if you wish." 

"You are a fellow magister? I... I suppose you can help me. I need to find a place where the King of Worms can't find me." 

I let her words settle in the air around us, steering her off of the road a bit. "Why hide from him?" 

"What?" 

"Why hide from him? If he is as powerful as you believe, why bother trying to hide. You know he will get that amulet, whether you want him to or not. Wouldn't it be best to ensure your own survival?" 

"You can't be suggesting that... I join him. He's a necromancer!" 

"What have they done to you? Nothing, I'm sure." 

"They killed Tyrie!" That was her name. "They killed the Archmage! If it weren't for them, Traven probably wouldn't have damned the practice." 

"Who ever said it was the Necromancers, hmm? There were no witnesses, isn't that right? Traven exiled them because he was jealous of their power. They can do things you can't imagine." I hissed my words into her ears, vanishing in an invisibility spell. "Do what you will, but you cannot escape the King of Worms." She spun around, her eyes wide with fear. But I couldn't be seen, not by her anyway. 

I followed her as she returned to the Arcane University, collecting a few younger mages before leaving again. The entire time they traveled, Caranya tried to convince the young to join her, and us. Most agreed, great fear in their eyes, but some still refused. They were quickly and easily killed. With the Necromancer's Amulet secured, I knew I had to find the Redguard, soon. The longer he was allowed to hide, the more likely his chance to escape. 

I had returned to the Arcane University in search of clues as to the other Mage's location, but found myself returning at the same time as that blasted Imperial. Keeping myself hidden in darkness and with the assistance of an Invisibility spell, I was able to listen in on his conversation with Traven. "What news do you bring, Lucien? The grim look on your face does not bode well." 

"Mannimarco was in Bruma. He killed all of them but one. The Khajiit J'skar yet lives." 

"The situation is dire indeed." I grinned inwardly as I listened. So that was his plan. He was brining the fight to them, at long last. To my luck, their conversation drifted to the Bloodoworm Helm and the Necromancers Amulet. It turns out he had gone south, near Leyawiin. I would deal with him there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter

Irlav stood by the fire, the helm resting on a stone nearby. He knew I was there, it was obvious in the way he slouched. No matter, he'd be dealt with soon enough. There were several Daedric creatures that had guarded the path hear, but they were all oblivious as I passed, concealed by my spell. "Come out, Necromancer," his voice echoed. "There's no sense in hiding." Dispelling myself, I stood tall and proud as I descended the rubble to face him. "An Argonian? Now that is odd."

"Stop wasting my time, Mage. I've come for the Helm, and I am not leaving without it." 

"Do you really think Mannimarco cares for you and your ilk? Truly? Then you are more a fool than I thought. He is using you and everyone else for his own gain, and he won't hesitate to dispose of you should you get in his way." I grit my teeth, grabbing the Imperial's neck and burried a dagger into his back, just left of the lower spine. The sweet spot. He gasped, his knees buckling. "He'll kill you, just like the others. You mean nothing to him. There's nothing..." The words faded away as he let out a last gasp of breath. Echoed sounds of fighting reached me, and I knew I had no time. That damned Mage had come, and the only way out was the way I came in. I had taken too long listening to his ramblings, and now I was going to pay for it. 

The Bloodworm Helm was right there, all I had to do was grab it. But I panicked. Lucien entered the cavern just as I winked out of sight beside the corpse of the dead Mage. Whether he saw me or not, I do not know, but he cursed loudly as he ran down to my location beside the body. He checked for a pulse, letting out another string of curses. Some I recognized to be Dunmeri and I almost snapped, but I had to keep my cool otherwise I would join the other dead. The Bloodworm Helm had been in my grasp, but now this Mage was taking it from me! There was nothing I could do. If I even tried to get it back, I would be a dead man walking. So I was forced to watch as the Imperial left the caverns with the Helm, the Amulet glittering in his pocket. Caranya had failed to dispose of him. I would have swore profusely, had Lucien not been in the room still. This lone Mage was destroying everything I had worked for! Mannimarco would not be pleased. 

It was then the Imperial's words echoed in my head. If he was right, I would probably be killed if I went back with news of another failure. However, if I didn't go back I would be tracked down and killed all the same. If I didn't go back, I would never see my Nakuma. If i did, whose to say I would ever learn to bring her back. Everything was a jumble of nonsense in my head. Should I go back, or should I leave? When the coast was clear, I mutilated the Irlav's corpse for what he had done to me. If he hadn't said a thing, I would be fine! But he opened that trap of his, and now I was second-guessing the King of Worms and myself. Damnit all! 

In the end I had decided to return to the King of Worms, but not unprepared. I was tense, keeping spells and scrolls within reach as I confronted Mannimarco once more. He had retreated to Echo Cave, far north by Bruma, which should have been enough of a clue as to how badly we were losing. But I would not see it. I wanted to believe that there was still hope for us, that Irlav had been spouting useless words when he spoke. Bolor Savel, a very lowly ashborn, nodded to me as I passed. He had learned to respect me through my continued slaughter of his race. Lucky him. 

I found the King of Worms pacing restlessly in the cavern by his altar. It was well prepared to turn a powerful magister into a worm thrall. I flinched, but continued anyway. "Itan-Ru, I've heard ill news." The Altmer did not face me. "The Mage hound returned to Traven with both artifacts." 

"Yes, King of Worms. I had thought-" 

"You do not think! You obey! I gave you the simple task of retrieving those items, yet you failed so blatantly as this! I should slaughter you now!" I closed my eyes, hanging my head. So Irlav was right, he would kill anyone who did not do as he pleased. "But I won't. You may have failed, but not as badly as that fool Falcar." I lifted my head, little emotion showing on my face. He was giving me another chance? "I instructed that fool to safeguard a colossal soul gem, but he got himself and all of his acolytes killed in Silorn. This gives us a unique opportunity. They know of my hide away here, and no doubt Traven will come swords blazing. It is expected." Mannimarco turned back to his table, rearranging a few ingredients. "He will come here in an attempt to kill the last of us. But we are strong. The instant he approaches me, us, his soul will leave his body and become a simple husk to be used as needed. You will help me. No doubt he will bring that blasted mage Lucien with him, which is why I need you. Use your shadowscale abilities, ambush him, do whatever you need to in order to dispose of him. Traven must be faced alone if the process is to be fully completed. Do you understand me?" 

"Yes, King of Worms." I nodded, my eyes settling on the floor. 

"Surane taught you much, but I can teach you more. She had become a bit much anyway. Causing unrest within our ranks. It was better that she was killed in Nenyond Twyll than allowed to continue her games. Besides, she taught you all that you needed to know." He smirked, which confused me until I heard the echoed bleat of that damned fawn again. "You have an affinity for it," he whispered in my ear before dismissing me. I had to kill this mage, this Lucien. After all that he had done, I was finally getting my chance to settle the score. He would die. 

 

___ 

 

I stationed as many acolytes near the door as I could manage, increasing the number the deeper the cave got. This Lucien, Traven's errand boy, would be stopped here. I would separate the two of them, taking my target down with hit and run tactics. It was the only thing to be done. Going straight in would spell death for me any anyone else foolish enough to try it. 

Lucien came tearing through the entrance to the caverns, throwing spells left and right, using a blade like I've never seen a mage do so before. He was a god among men as he slaughtered our ranks. But Traven was not with him. A massively sized soul gem gleamed from his pack, and I knew what had happened. Mannimarco needed to know. He was in grave danger! Casting invisibility over myself, I vanished into the deepest depths of the caverns. "King of Worm!" I gasped, falling down to one knee in a bow. "Traven has not come with the mage. But he has the soul gem!" 

"No matter, we will deal with him. Both of us. We can deal with this fetcher with-" 

"Mannimarco!" a dark Imperial voice reached us. Out of habit, I concealed myself once again and disappeared into the background. 

"Our guest has arrived." Lucien cast all matter of spells at the King of Worms, but each was deflected by a shield spell of some sort. A gap in the fighting allowed him to cast a sort of paralysis over the Imperial mage, freezing him in place. I didn't think anything could touch him, the way he was moving in the caverns. "Perhaps we shall chat for a while, since you really have no other options. I must say, I expected Arch-Mage Traven, rather than his star pupil." Lucien's hand twitched. "I am disappointed to see that he could not face me himself. I have met so many of his predecessors over the years. I developed a particular fondness for Galerion, ill-preserved though hemay be. But here you are instead. Skilled enough to make it this far, through all my schemes, which speaks volumes about you. Perhaps you'll be as useful to me as Traven would." 

"What is it you are trying to accomplish by taking out the Mages Guild, you s'wit?" 

"Power, my dear friend. I seek power, and so I acquire and study those who have some degree of it." I clenched my fists and started shaking. Surane's body had vanished less than a day after Nenyond Twyll, and couldn't be found anywhere. I knew now that Mannimarco had taken it, most likely taking it apart like I had done to so many other, lesser, beings. He no doubt sent me on this suicide mission against Lucien in order to get a hold of both of our corpses. Irlav had been right. We were nothing to him. "We are after the same things, your guild and I. Yet you worry about 'good' and 'evil' and do not accept they are manifestations of the same thing. So you brand me and mine villans, and make vain attempts to destroy us. I watch, and I wait, and I collect you when you come for me. Instead of drawing Traven out, I have received you instead. Perhaps I shall personally go and collect him when we are done here." Mannimarco grabbed Lucien's face in his hands, a purple mist glowing around them. His face contorted, not in pain, but frustration. I had no love for Lucien or his guild, but I could not let Mannimarco win this way! He was using us all for his own gain! 

Leaping forward with a shout, the invisibility wearing off, I drew my blade on them. I had been wrong about Lucien supposedly being paralyzed, just as Noveni had been wrong in the Wellspring Grove. He spun out of the King of Worm's grip, twisting his blade around to catch my shoulder. The blade bit into my flesh, easily separating the scales. Hissing loudly, I dropped to my knees. Despite his action, I still had to deal with the Altmer who had convinced me to follow him. I weakly dragged my blade across the back of Mannimarco's knee, giving Lucien the chance to do what he needed to do. My vision flickered black before he attacked, fading back to sometime after the fight. 

"A blue-scaled argonian," I heard him mumble through the ringing in my ears. "I thought we'd lost you years ago." Before I could hear anything else, everything had gone. 

 

________ 

 

"Vicente.... needs our help.... killed him... Ungolim was at..." I flickered in and out of consciousness, catching only snippets of Lucien's voice. Vicente... Vicente... I knew that name in the back of my mind. Even without hearing him speak, I knew he was a Breton. 

"I don't... not much we can do... won't trust us... the fetcher..." The second voice was quieter, purposefully. I knew it had to be this 'Vicente'. 

 

________ 

 

There was a soft tapping on my face, stirring my from a slumber that I had slipped into without even knowing. "Itan-Ru," a Breton voice spoke. "Wake up, boy." My head throbbed, as did a my shoulder. I could remember very little, from what happened before I fell asleep. Mannimarco was there, telling something to Lucien. It was important but... what was it? I opened my eyes a bit, seeing Lucien's scowling face against a stone wall. It was at that moment my memories came flooding back. The King of Worm's words, Lucien's blade. I tried to jump from the stone slab I had been resting on, but stumbled weakly and fell face first on the floor. "Be calm, Itan-Ru! We are not here to hurt you." 

"Get away from me!" I scampered back into a corner, holding my hands up, all I could do to protect myself at the moment. I recognized this Breton's face as that of Vicente Valtieri. A legend among my people. Slaughtered hundreds, thousands, of ashland vampires. The only one to ever do so. He had killed more ashborn than anyone in my race had ever known. If he was here with Lucien, after that Imperial had tried to kill me, why would they stop? What was to keep my alive. His hand touched my wrist and I flinched. Even with that little touch, a feeling of calm swept over me. 

"We are not here to hurt you," he repeated. His red eyes gleamed, deep wisdom and pain showing in them. "I know you, Itan-Ru. All of us in the Black Hand do. You were the only Shadowscale to escape the Brotherhood for as long as you did. Fourteen years, its been." 

"What do you want?" 

"To offer you a place in the family once again," Lucien spoke up, pacing away from the wall. "I was there when Ungolim killed your mother as you tried to save that Assassin. You outsmarted the best of us, Argonian. That is no small feat." I didn't move, looking between the two of them. I only then truly noticed that I was completely bare. 

"Come with me, Itan-Ru. We should get you decent to meet the others." Vicente offered me his hand, helping me to my feet. I reached for my torn and bloodied Necromancer robe, but he shook his head. "Necromancy is not taken lightly here, Brother. It would be best if you refrained from wearing those." My nose twitched slightly, but I took my hand off the fabric. They spared my life, though I did not know why. It would be best not to make them angry. He handed me a black leather armor. It was near identical to the armor Nakuma had been wearing when I ran into her what seemed like a lifetime ago. "Let's go see the others," Vicente spoke again when I was fully dressed. I nodded, following sheepishly behind him.


End file.
